Frozen
by youllsavemexxo
Summary: When you're in so deep, how do you make a choice? During S6 finale - spoilers. What if Izzie was still at SGH during the shooting?


Author's Note: I had this on my LJ, but I decided to move it here. Didn't expect to get any reviews, you guys are awesome! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, because unfortunately, Shonda Rhimes does. And I really wish she'd bring Izzie back next season3

Frozen.

That moment when you're so hopeless that it feels like you're still dreaming. You can't move, you can't speak, and you can barely breathe. You're trying to make sense of your surroundings; and you can't seem to piece together how you even got up to this point. When all you can think about is how you couldn't decide what to wear today, and maybe if you had picked out your outfit last night, you'd get to work earlier. Maybe you'd be in a different place, at a different time. Maybe the time you spent hesitating whether to run that red light really did make a difference. Maybe it would all be different.

Frozen.

_I have to make a choice that could end badly. Very badly. Usually decisions like this have an upside and a downside. This choice has only two downsides and neither choice seems any better than the other. I need to decide what to do, not only for myself, but for another person. I'm holding someone else's life in my own hands, and what I choose can ultimately end it._

Frozen.

When the guy you think may be your soul mate is on the floor with a bullet inside of him. When this seems entirely too familiar, just opposite. When, _wasn't it just a year ago when I was the one who was dying? How did we even get here? _When the movement around you is so slowed down, that it eventually stops. When seconds feel like hours, and your brain tries to take in way too much, all at once. And lastly, how nothing else matters when the person you love is in danger.

Frozen. With a gun pointed at you.

"Good morning Mr. Levitt, I'm Dr. Stevens, and I'll be taking your blood sample today." She had this habit of putting on her most optimistic smile on for patients. She had never treated a patient with anything more than a sometimes sickening amount of happiness and cheerfulness. She refused to let her out-of-hospital life hinder her in-hospital life. Even though she was starting to get used to going to sleep alone, she wouldn't let it show. Even though she hadn't felt the need to smile outside of the hospital, but did it anyway, she wouldn't let it interfere with her work. She had put too much into getting this job back, and was so grateful when she got it. At this point, it really had become all she had.

It was a simple procedure; sterilize, poke, wait for the blood to fill the tube, and then press down the gauze. She'd done it countless times to countless patients, and rarely ran into problems. This patient was an exception. "I can't seem to get a vein..." she told the patient, trying to hide her frustration. "It's no problem; I'll go get a smaller needle. I'll be right back." She stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her, sighing. Izzie hated it when such small things became such a hassle. She opened the door to the supply closet almost routinely, but something was different. Something was off, and as much as she tried to place it out of her mind, she wasn't successful. She turned the corner, and saw him.

Mr. Clarke.

She'd heard of him, she'd heard of his case. His wife was a patient, he was a husband. He was suing the hospital. She had felt _empathy_, of all things, for him. She knew how it felt to lose someone so close, to have them ripped apart from you. It had happened to her. Twice. She knew the feeling. She understood why he was suing the hospital, even though he almost certainly didn't even have a case. Knew how it felt to have so much pain overflowing from you that you need an outlet for it. In her case, she baked enough cookies, brownies and muffins to probably end world hunger. But what he did, his outlet, she could not understand.

The massive pile of blood. The medical supplies on the floor, which now would have to be thrown away. The bullet hole in Reed Adamson's head. All that blood. _What is Mr. Clarke doing here?_ The gun that he was holding. The man on the floor behind him. So much blood. The recognizable white coat of that man; 'he's one of us…he's a doctor too'. The familiar body that she clung to after Denny died in that hospital room. The familiar face that she's woken up next innumerable times. Everything about him was familiar, even if he hadn't been familiar to her in a long time. All that blood.

Alex.

She had stood in front of all those people, and told him that she loved him. And she had promised to love him and cherish him forever. For better or for worse, and it couldn't get much worse than this. He was the last person she would ever want in that position. Her eyes were so concentrated on him and only him; she couldn't move her focus off of him if she tried.

"..Alex?"

That caught two peoples' attention, one of which she regretted. Mr. Clarke didn't expect to see anyone else there; he didn't think anyone else would dare come in. Alex tried to keep breathing, even though it was getting harder for him to. He mumbled something that she couldn't comprehend, but she knew he was telling her to stay away. The pain he was going through seemed almost real to her, and shot up and down her spine like a pinball in an old arcade game. Every inch of her seemed to be on an edge, and it was almost certainly the adrenaline that made her heart beat so fast.

"Get back."

Her gaze turned to Mr. Clarke now. She watched his every little movement; the way he turned towards her, as well as the way his back was to Alex now, and especially the way he raised his arm and pointed the gun right at her. Strangely, she felt a little bit of relief. Now she knew that he would leave Alex alone. She knew he wouldn't hurt him again, and that was the most important thing. Even if she had to get hurt in the process, in her mind, that was okay. Just as long as Alex was all right. She was at a cross-road; stuck between trying to save him, and trying to not get herself killed. If she moved, she would die, and Alex wouldn't get the help he needed. If she didn't move, Alex would die from not getting any help at all.

Frozen.


End file.
